by R.K. Ryals
Chapter 21
Conor
"What the hell was that?"
Luther is leaning casually against the wall across from me, his black boot tapping lightly against the ancient pize flooring. The students have all left. Will is guarding Emma. She is being moved to the residence hall in the renovated barn. We all sleep there in a group. It is supposed to encourage comradeship among the ranks, but it only seems to cause animosity.
"This is a prison, you know," Luther says while gesturing at the room. I narrow my eyes.
"What else are we supposed to do with them?" I ask.
Luther shrugs.
"Kill them. Let our side have them," he suggests.
I'm unable to keep the disgust off my face.
"So that Satan can use them against mankind?"
Luther leans forward, his eyes glowing red.
"Being bad isn't all bad, Reinhardt. You should try it. Our girl was pretty hot today wasn't she?"
His reference to Emma makes my blood boil. Luther knows Emma's mother personally. This I am sure of. Luther is ancient. He has been around almost as long as his older brother, Marcas. He knows what Emma is capable of. I know what Emma is capable of.
"You are as bad as the rest of them," I accuse.
Luther laughs.
"I've never pretended to be anything other than what I am, Reinhardt. You, on the other hand, you don't know what you are.
"I know exactly what I am," I argue.
Luther pushes away from the wall and circles me.
"Do you?" he asks. "You, gargoyle, are a liar. From the moment I met you, I've known you were confused. The lines between good and evil are blurry. Anyone worth his grain of salt knows that. If you were so sure the hybrids are all bad, then why let your best friend leave with my brother?"
My heart is beating now. The rhythm is hard, angry.
"It was her choice."
"And you did it out of love, right? Keep telling yourself that, Reinhardt."
Luther has gone too far. I feel myself changing, my hand turning to stone as I lift it. I know my eyes are cold, calculating.
"Is it me you want to hurt? Or is it yourself? You don't love Dayton. You care about her, and you love her the way you would family, but you don't love her," Luther says as he looks at my hand.
I am in Luther's face now, my fists clenched, but they are at my sides and heavy.
"You don't know me, Craig."
Luther watches me, his eyes unblinking.
"I know you more than you think I do. I know you better than your own people do. You can play the hero, Reinhardt, because you are one. You know as well as I that when the battle between Heaven and Hell happens, some of us won't be on the sides we're supposed to be on. And you, Conor, are not made to be the gargoyle they want you to be. Your past speaks for itself."
I stare at him, my eyes searching his red pupils.
"What are you referring to, Craig?"
Luther glances at the charred stone floor a few feet away. It's the mark left behind by Emma.
"You won't marry Rachel. You don't love Dayton. You were in love with the idea of protecting her," Luther says. "And you can't lose yourself in women. I know. I've tried in the past. I've had centuries to try. And you've been with a Demon, Reinhardt. You tell me who crossed the line."
Luther has connections in the Demon world. This has been obvious to me since the day the two of us met. He knows everything and what he doesn't know, he finds out.
"I wasn't aware of what she was when I met her," I say firmly.
Luther shakes his head.
"Don't tell me you didn't suspect. Lyre is powerful. Hot headed and jealous and powerful."
I back away from Luther, my gaze still on the charred stone.
"I didn't suspect. I was sixteen and stupid. People make mistakes."
"And Lyre is her mother's daughter. She entices men. I can see that. Once again, lines between good and evil are blurred. And what did you do when you found out? You brought Lyre here. You attempt to save her despite knowing she was with her mother too long. And now she sees you guarding Emma. Emma, who is potentially more powerful than every Demon in this school. I know you volunteered to be Emma's Guardian. Why is that, Reinhardt?"
I don't have an answer for him, and he knows it.
"You volunteered because you see something in her," Luther says confidently. "Beneath the plain facade, beneath the assumed fear, she is brave, she is loyal, she is practical, and she's strong. She doesn't need saving."
"I don't know her," I say, my voice low.
"No," Luther agrees. "But she's the kind of girl you could fall in love with when or if you do get to know her. And she's a Demon. The lines are blurred, Reinhardt. The lines are blurred."
"The lines are black and white and perfectly clear."
I turn to walk away, my back to Luther as I reach the door.
"Then tell me this, Reinhardt. When they sign the extermination order, will you be able to take her out?"
"They won't do that."
Luther snorts.
"I could take her with me. Return her to her mother."
I turn and pin him with a gaze full of murder.
"You won't take her anywhere."
Luther raises his brow.
"Possessive, are we? No worries. She isn't my type."
I walk out the door. My meeting with Luther is finished.
"What? You're not interested in my type, Reinhardt?"
I keep walking.
"Just so you know, I've developed a taste for witches."
My steps never falter.
